


Gen.Eva

by DiYunho



Category: DCU, Joker - Fandom, Joker Jared Leto - Fandom, Suicide Squad (2016), The Joker - Fandom, The Joker dcu - Fandom, joker DCU
Genre: Angst and Feels, Anti-Hero, Consequences, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Issues, Feelings, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, General Eva - Freeform, Geneva, Gotham City - Freeform, Joker - Freeform, Joker dcu - Freeform, Life Partners, Love, Love Confessions, Loyalty, Marriage Proposal, Partners in Crime, Power Couple, Secret Organization, Secret Organizations, Tattoos, The Joker - Freeform, The Joker dcu, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Vigilante, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Women Being Awesome, Women In Power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28582140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiYunho/pseuds/DiYunho
Summary: General Eva’s rise to power was fueled by personal reasons she didn’t care to share with anyone else besides the man she loves. The leader of the feared underground organization “The Executioners” has an old score to settle with J and she won’t stop until he’s dead.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Reader, Joker (DCU)/You, Joker/Y/N, The Joker/Reader, The Joker/Y/N, The Joker/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Gen.Eva

**Author's Note:**

> You can also follow me on Tumblr and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

The phone rings and The Joker is annoyed with Frost’s persistence of getting a hold of him when he made it clear he doesn’t want to be disturbed for the rest of the day.

“What do you want???” J yells after sliding the screen of his cell phone.

“Sir, are you watching TV?” Jonny fails to apologize for his transgression which makes The Clown increasingly pissed, not that justification would matter too much anyway: he’s in a bad mood.

“No!!”

“Can you please turn the TV on? I’m almost at the hideout!”

The Joker would love to retaliate, yet he knows Frost wouldn’t ask him unless it’s very important.

“Which channel?”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s on all of them.”

J grabs the remote and turns on the TV, intrigued.

The image feeling up the screen makes him take a deep breath as the message keeps repeating in a time loop:

“Are you ready Joker?

There’s nowhere to hide.

You will never see me coming!”

She looks so different now and it takes several minutes for the mad man to recognize the person hatefully addressing him.

It’s definitely the infamous General Eva who used to have another name many years ago; how could he forget her or what he did in order to earn the woman’s wrath?

There’s nothing left of the girl he used to know; at least he can’t find anything at a first glance. Her fierce appearance is a testimony of how she evolved over the years since becoming a general for The Executioners is not an easy task: her bald head is covered in elaborated black tattoos that extend around her cheeks, then down to her neck, arms and back. The dark tank top she’s wearing is hiding some of the ink, yet J is aware that the more you advance in rank, the more tattoos are added to one’s frame.

Gen. Eva that ultimately allowed a few to call her just Geneva is issuing a public threat for The King of Gotham and it means nothing but trouble: the phones at the police stations in Gotham and all over the country are invaded about the recording pushed through on the hacked TV stations.

Some citizens demand details, some are blaming the cops for not doing enough in order to protect the population and some are thrilled The Executioners are taking on the task of punishing someone that low enforcement failed to bring to justice over and over again.

Surprisingly, not too much is known about the underground organization: a handful of rumors and facts gathered by the CIA mysteriously leaked on the internet a couple of years back and people figured out who really was behind the story that shook the nation.

“Attack on Innocence” was a breakthrough narrative about the director of Gotham General Hospital found hanging in front of his house, his body covered in writings spelling: “baby killer.” A bunch of paperwork planted inside his coat showed that all the abandoned offsprings at the maternity ward the doctor signed death certificates for weren’t dead; being sold on the black market for organ harvesting was the proper way to describe his horrifying actions.

As if the whole discovery wasn’t puzzling enough, the final proof set across the street from the residence left questions unanswered: a truck filled with the 11 angels supposedly dead, alive and comfortably resting in baby baskets. Someone went through the trouble of tracking, saving, feeding and changing the infants before placing them in the vehicle.

The sentence “Gen.Eva was here” was painted on the fence which matched similar crime scenes authorities stumbled upon in LA, New York, Dallas, Chicago and other numerous locations at different moments in time.

Conspiracy theories and assumptions bloomed on the web, although no critical evidence about the syndicate labeled as The Executioners truly existed. The main idea was that this phantom agency was punishing criminals evading law and uncovered delinquents hiding beyond their social status in order to commit felonies.

When graffiti emerged everywhere depicting baldheaded men and women covered in tattoos with halos glowing above them, the authorities tried to bury the perception that they were some sort of much needed anti-heroes. 

“Make no mistake, they are no saints! These are murderers and they should be held accountable!” one of the statements released to the press read.

Online forums and support groups had a different opinion: perhaps society was ready for a new type of vigilantes to fight and unmask those guilty of heinous deeds that otherwise would go unnoticed unless you knew where to dig and had the resources to do so.

Today The Executioners are menacing to bring their wrath upon The Clown Prince of Crime and it might not necessarily mean a safer place for those inhabiting Gotham City.

They are also willing to come out of the shadows and who knows what that actually means.  
****************

New York, 8:59pm

You’re watching the busy night life from the 25h floor belonging to one of the sky scrapers towering over Main Street while Zela’s hands firmly wrap around your waist.

“What are you thinking about?” he sneers in your ear.

“Lots of things…” the elusive reply makes him smirk.

“Does that mean you’re debating about my proposal?”

“What proposal?” you pretend not to get the hint.

“Marry me!”

“No.”

“Why not?” Zela insists without a logic outcome on the horizon.

“Because you’re old,” you chuckle imagining the expression on his face, thus you turn to fully savor it.

“I’m not old!” he protests as you trace the unique tattoos on his forehead symbolizing the high rank granted only upon The Overseer: Zela’s responsibility is to make sure everything runs smoothly, always keeping an eye on the new recruits and current members alike.

“How old are you then?” the wide smile on your lips makes him steal a kiss.

“Hmm…” he huffs. “A number between 40 and 50.”

“45?” you try to guess.

“Close enough,” Zela proudly states. “How old are you, general?”

“Ahhh, that’s a tricky one… For the sake of conversation, let’s presume it’s a number between 30 and 40.”

“Thirty…four?”

“Close enough!” your sarcasm delights the man you’ve grown to love, even if you also hate him for what you feel each time you gaze at him: he feels like…home.

And you don’t have a home.

“Geneva, I’m serious!” his tone changes and you sigh, a bit aggravated by his determination.

“Can you please stop asking?”

“Well, are you gonna marry me?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll keep asking,” the stubborn Overseer concludes.

“You’re impossible,” you peck the corner of his mouth, rushing towards the door afterwards.

“Are you visiting tonight? Should I leave the window opened?”

Your fingers open the latch and you’re certain he’s satisfied with the result:

“I would.” 

Zela drags his feet on the hallway since he wishes to view the show; the 8 bodyguards waiting outside the door immediately follow behind the general, many other affiliates flanking the corridor left and right awaiting orders.

You abruptly halt in front of Ardena and she nervously gulps at your inquiry.

“What is it The Executioners value the most?”

“Loyalty!” the escorts simultaneously shout.

“What do we consider unforgivable?”

“Treason!” their voices echo in the stillness and Ardena attempts to negotiate.

“General, I…”

“You’re fired!” your verdict seals her fate while Edra pulls his gun out of the holster and shoots the renegade.

None of those present react at the ruling fit for those who dare breaking the rules, yet Zela watches you step into the elevator and grumbles loud enough for those near him to hear:

“That’s how perfection looks like!” he points at Geneva before re-entering the office used for tonight’s meeting.

You barely made it in the car when your phone chimes.

“Are you going to marry me?” The Overseer’s text message pops on your screen. “If you don’t, I’ll keep asking. Deal?”

You snicker at his antiques and type a simple “ok.”

“Fine, I’ll keep asking.”

He’s so dense sometimes, you think since he didn’t understand what your “ok” referred to.  
***************

11:52pm – 6 miles away from New York City

Zela discerns your silhouette by the window and doesn’t say anything, enjoying The General taking off her clothes. You think he’s asleep so you tiptoe around the bed, crawling under the sheets with him. He senses your skin against his and pulls you in his arms, yawning.

“I thought you won’t come.”

“No way,” you cuddle up to him. “I had to process brand new information about The Joker’s whereabouts. I couldn’t pass on the opportunity.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll flush him out. The bastard can’t hide forever!” Zela kisses your wrist as you continue to caress his face.

“He sure can’t!” Geneva’s switch in temper prompts the man she’s spending the night with to change the subject; he detests how much she drifts away when she’s tangled in her own personal hell.

“No to using the stairs?” he gestures at the staircase still visible in the blackness.

“Nope, I prefer climbing.”

“I assume that’s why my bedroom is on the 10th floor,” Zela admits. “I bet it’s quite rewarding to reach the king trapped at his hideout high above the ground.”

“Did you just call yourself a king?!” you burst out laughing and he’s happy you got distracted by the nonsense. “I have to tell you I’m not interested in being a queen.”

“Who needs a queen when you have a general, hm? Especially one I’ve been begging to marry me.”

“Why do you keep asking?” you interrupt his tirade. “I already answered.”

“But it’s not a solution I’m willing to accept,” The Overseer is worked up for nothing.

“At this moment, I swear I want to kill you,” you roll your eyes because he rambles on about it. “Didn’t I respond with ok to your text?”

“Huh?” Zela suspiciously touches your nose with his.

“I said ok…”

“You said ok to that part??!” he gets on his elbow, startled.

“Yes,” the calm Geneva reassures.

“Shit, we gotta celebrate! You know what’s the perfect way to do so?”

You mumble a “no” and he dully enunciates:

“Napping!”

“Napping?!” you object to the boring proposition hence Zela’s quirkiness kicks in:

“Yeah, I’m old. What else are we supposed to do?!”

If someone could measure how ecstatic the woman’s laugh makes him, there’s no amount of gratification that compares to what’s going on in his heart right now.

“I have a few ideas,” you wink and he plays dumb.

“Sorry, I’m too old to full around.”

“Your body betrays you sir,” you cling to Zela as he lifts the blanket to glare down and scold:

“Traitor!”

You can’t stop laughing yet you manage to utter:

“Careful, you know what happens to traitors in our world.”

“I take it back!” he yells and brings out a different problem. “After we tight the knot, am I becoming Mister General or are you becoming Missus Overseer?”

“It’s better if we stick to our current titles,” the fair plan is laid out. “This way we can save the planet, one asshole at a time.”

“Damn, I’m sooooo aroused when you talk dirty to me!” he rolls on top of you and the wardens patrolling 10th level of the property are disturbed by the new guy’s observation.

“Did you hear that?” he attentively listens and gasps. “We might have a security breach!” Celso tries to run for it and the 10 veterans grab him before he barges into The Overseer’s quarters.

“There’s no security breach!” Leo snarls. “General Eva’s with him!”

“I didn’t spot her passing by!” Celso defends his zealous compulsion.

“And you never will!”

“What do you mean?...” the confused Executioner blurs out.

“She likes to climb.”

****************

8:03am - Gotham

Frost spent the whole night at The Joker’s safe house without being able to discuss the new turn of events with him.

J locked himself inside the master bedroom and refused to open the door or answer the cell bombarded by Jonny’s messages. That’s how Frost deducted the situation was messier than it seemed: The Clown wouldn’t normally give a crap about threats; he would directly retaliate.

The Joker’s trusted henchman had no option but to triple protection assigned to his boss, his girlfriend and their newborn hoping that he could receive clarification on what the next move should be.

“Oh!” Frost jumps off the couch when the door to J’s bedroom is slowly cracked, a sign The Joker is ready to at least have a dialogue.

“Good morning sir,” Jonny greets his employer and the latest groans instead of replying. “I’m sorry to get straight to the core of the topic, but due to the urgency we’re confronting… Did we do any business with these guys that I’m not aware of?”

“No.”

“Did we kill any members associated with this organization? Any of their allies as far as you know?”

“No.”

“Mister Joker,” Frost presses for information, “are you accustomed with that woman?”

“Yes.”

Jonny is threading on very thin ice and gathers his courage to dig deeper:

“Who is she mister Joker?”

The 54 year old inhales, tired with the interrogation:

“My daughter.”


End file.
